the third version of this blog because I've become just that: older and wiser.

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Mother guilt is pretty much a given when it comes to motherhood. Its just a part of the whole deal.

I’ve had my fair share. Sometimes it comes from pressure that I put on myself and sometimes in comes in the form of comments from other people, friends, family or even the kids themselves.

I try to maintain a healthy work/home balance but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m actually pretty crappy at it. In fact – I totally suck at it.

I have spent the past I don’t know HOW MANY years advocating for Harley and trying to get him the help that he needs in the school system at any cost.

I did everything I could think of to help him manage better at school and spent years paying for countless therapists to try to encourage some sort of progress on paper, but all I kept seeing was a defeated and sad little boy.

He has always struggled to read, to write and with maths. Actually, he has battled with pretty much every element of school life. The socialising would still be the part that he has the most difficulty with but being that he is autistic- that aint about to magically change anytime soon.

We were driving to school last week when he oh-so-casually mentioned to me that his teacher suggested that he gets his eyes tested because she noticed him squinting at the board and also at his workbooks.

“How long have you had trouble seeing honey”? I asked him.

“I’ve never really been able to see much” he replied.

Um. Ok.

So I took him to the optometrist that very afternoon to learn that he also has the beginnings of the same eye condition that has plagued me for most of my life (but hopefully it will be able to be corrected in time so it doesn’t reach the point that mine have).

Blind as a bat I believe the technical term is!

And to think that it didn’t even occur to me to get his eyes checked – cue the mother guilt … in spades…

I took the afternoon off work today to go with him to collect his new glasses and was almost in tears as he excitedly skipped through the shopping centre reading out every shop sign and describing to me everything that he was seeing in great detail.

I asked him on the way home why he hadn’t told me earlier that he couldn’t see well and his answer damn near broke my heart.

“Because I just figured that everyone else was seeing the same as me but I thought I was dumb and that they were just smarter than me.”

I glanced at him in the rear view mirror and noticed him look down at his feet.

“Plus, I didn’t know what to say to tell you Mum. I couldn’t find the right words to describe it, and I knew that you have to work really hard for our money and I didn’t want to waste it on glasses because I know you can’t really afford it”.

I was gutted.

Sure, I’ve had to say no to the kids a lot lately because bills often eat up the majority of my pay, but I had hoped that he knew that I would’ve done whatever it takes to get him what he NEEDS.

But I managed to sit him down this afternoon and explain that I will always find a way when it comes to my kids. And that I was so super proud to have him as my spectacular spectacles buddy.

I hashtagged #sayWHAT? On Instagram underneath the photo of him all dressed this morning because I can hardly believe it myself!
But I suppose it had to happen eventually, he is turning 13 this year (ugh – not coping with the thought of having TWO teenagers in the house).

We arrived at the school nice and early and hung back from the other waiting hordes of kids, noise and chaos and I watched Harley closely for signs of anxiety or tension but was pleased to see just pure and genuine excitement instead.

It wasn’t long before a girl from his class (who I recognised from the transition program) nervously walked over and stood beside me and asked if she could wait with us.
“Of course Natasha!” I said and realised immediately that my incredible memory for names still kinda freaks people out!

She instantly relaxed and leaned her head on my shoulder and I immediately recognised the sometimes-autistic trait of invading personal space. It was fine because I’ve walked this path for so many years now that gorgeous little quirks like this now make me smile instead of alarming me and I just roll with it.

Harley (seeing her ease with me) warmed up to her and eventually the two of them walked over and sat on the stairs together and waited until the bell went.

So I waited a little longer before realising that he was going to be fine without me and walked back to my car feeling as though I’d been gut punched!

Which is weird: because years ago (when he had to be literally pulled off me kicking and screaming) I would’ve given ANYTHING for him to show a little independence but now that he is able to do things on his own – I found it disconcerting and unnerving because I hadn’t realised just how much I need to be needed til now.

I climbed into my car and sat there motionless for a little while before deciding that work was gonna have to wait and I drove to a nearby coffee shop to meet a friend so that I could have a cry and a much needed brain dump.

I sat there and spoke about everything I’d declined recently. The coffee dates, the party invites and movie nights and the school events that seemed to be never-ending, and I realised that none of it really mattered to me at the time because my mind was ever consumed with ensuring that my precious boy was properly taken care of.

I let my own health nosedive, I started drinking far too much and I let great friendships dissolve because I didn’t put enough time or effort into them.

I hurt other people…..

And realising all of this made me really sad.

Because I can see now that I didn’t do a very good job of letting God carry my burden, and I tried to take on way too much myself and then wondered why I ended up in a soggy mess being no good to anybody.

But having said that- I don’t know that I would do things any differently should I have my time again.

Because my kids really do mean THAT much to me.

They will ALWAYS come first and I will always do whatever it takes to get them what they deserve. But I need to figure out a way to do it with more balance. I need to get a better perspective and I need to learn to function better under stressful situations so I don’t keep falling in a heap.

Because all the months of advocating, and petitioning and jumping up and down to anyone in authority have inevitably taken their toll on me.

But they paid off big time. My boy is now safely in an autism unit receiving the nurturing care and education that he was deprived of for so many years and that in itself is worth celebrating.

***********************************

He arrived home this afternoon with a big smile on his face and a skip in his step and told me all about the new friends he’s made and the love that he has for his teacher and I for one – couldn’t be happier.

Oh – and I made two new mum friends at the school gate while I waited for him! So that’s a plus!

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Today was a great day. I mean REALLY great. I’m sitting down in bed right now, cup of green tea in hand and with music playing softly in the background. It’s the perfect setting for reflecting on just how precious progress is for this autism mama.
I know all parents are thrilled when their kid reaches milestones, but I celebrate milestones that many other parents take for granted and consider to be un-noteworthy. These milestones may seem insignificant to some but huge to me and many other parents just like myself.
It started this morning when the boys didn’t want to go with their father as planned, so I had no choice but to take them to church with Ella and me. Which is quite a feat in itself considering the volume of the music in my church.

Even *I* often find myself inserting ear plugs to protect my hearing on occasion so I was really worried that the noise would push (particularly Harley) to breaking point.
So I went prepared.
I packed iPods, noise cancelling headphones and earplugs. A backpack filled with colouring books and pencils and fiddle toys galore and the boys both took their teddy bears as well.

I’ve learned over the years to ignore the puzzled looks on people as they watch my almost 10 and 13 year olds play with toys that you would normally expect a toddler to play with, and I no longer feel the need to explain anything to anyone but am happy to answer questions if I am asked.

The service lasted just over an hour and they were both FANTASTIC! I admit that I spent a lot of time looking over at them and checking- waiting- for signs of either of them not coping, but was pleasantly rewarded each time with big smiles and hugs.

And this people, is massive.

It wasn’t all that long ago that I barely left the house and avoided any type of public meeting for fear of bringing on meltdowns, so the boys have come quite a long way.

After coming home for lunch, I decided that I would make good of my plans to start planting my own vegetable garden and herbs so I gathered up the kids and took them to a nursery nearby to select some plants.

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In line with my previous post about looking after ME, I downloaded a fancy new app called ‘YOU’ and I’m absolutely LOVING it!
The basic idea of this app is to record by photographs small daily changes that you are making to your life for the better. You can make your posts private – like a personal visual diary, or public (like I have) where people from all over the world can like or comment on your personal growth pics.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “Great, it’s another social media platform that’s no different to Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook or even Twitter. Why do I even need this?”

Well, the truth is : You don’t. But the purpose of this app is to empower people and to help them to be the best YOU that they can be by helping you to create and achieve micro goals.
From my personal experience – most social media platforms tend to bring our people’s competitive sides and posts can sometimes turn into an ‘keeping up with, and running ahead of the joneses’ battle. I jumped off that comparison train a while back because it used to do my head in.

I deleted my Facebook and Twitter accounts years ago. I simply couldn’t deal with the crap that seems to go hand in hand with social media.

I still have Instagram and I’m very particular over who I follow and who I allow to follow me. It’s part of the ‘looking after me’ policy that I’ve adopted.

This app appeals to me mostly because in the about section it says:

Don’t ‘photo stress’. It’s not a photo competition so don’t feel pressured – life is not always picture perfect!

And there are even “7 commandments of the YOU app” that stresses that the app is not a competition. It tells you not to focus on commenting or liking other people’s posts but to remember that the purpose of the app is to help YOU.

It points out that participation is a choice and not expected every day and that they recognize that it’s easy to become overwhelmed when feeling like you have to post every single day. It encourages you to stop and take the time to reflect and think about your goals and encourages you to share anything that you’ve learned about yourself that may help someone else.
Today I posted pics in the categories of MOVE, LOVE, TAKE A MOMENT and FOOD.

I think this app is going to be a wonderful tool for me to continue taking the baby steps that i need to take for personal growth this year.

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I’m not one for making New Years Resolutions; I never continue them past the first week of January anyway. Declaring publicly that you are giving something up or starting something new is a sure-fire way to make a fool of yourself or end up disappointed when you ultimately fail.

Ask me how I know this 😉

Besides, I already know of several areas in my life where I need to make changes. God has been speaking to me gently about them for a while and I have also got some friends around me who aren’t afraid to be honest with me when they see me battling hurdles in my life. These friends are few but they are consistent and they speak life into me when I’m struggling and love me no matter what season I’m in.

I’ve always thought that self-harm was cutting, overdosing or physically damaging yourself in some way, but lately I’ve been made aware of the fact that self-harm actually refers to anything that you’re participating in that is causing you injury whether it be physical, emotional or mental.

And I’m the worst at self-sabotage.

I frequently say yes when I really want to (and should) say no, I eat what I know is going to make me ill (I have a list of known food intolerances as long as your arm) and I allow myself to be persuaded into being places I don’t want to be.

The downward spiral continues when I start to hate myself for being weak (again) and I push myself until I end up an emotional basket case and no good for anything or anybody.

Life is always going to throw curve balls at me, and people will always disappoint me – I can’t do a damn thing about any of that. But what I can change is how I view ME and how I treat ME.

Over the course of this year I have many long-term goals, physically, spiritually and emotionally.

I want to improve my running; both distance and style and I’d also like to work at losing a bit of weight, toning up and strengthening my body.

Spiritually I want to set aside more time to spend with my children and with Jesus. I want to rearrange my priorities and make room for miracles and blessings to occur and I want to teach my children by example about having hope.

Emotionally I want to learn to be kinder to myself. I want to learn how to say no when I need to, how to stand up for myself and how to stop taking crap from other people because I think so little of myself. I also want to set aside time each week to write. I process better when I do this and I find it incredibly cathartic.

I know that life isn’t always going to be easy and it’s a pretty overwhelming and exhaustive list of changes that I want to make in my life, but I don’t intend on doing everything all at once.

I haven’t even set dates as yet as to what I want to achieve by when or even how I plan to go about reaching those goals, but I have set myself the baby step goal of doing one thing per day that is just for me and just because I deserve it.

Today’s baby step was coming home from work, running myself a bubble bath and drinking a healthy smoothie made from fresh fruit and almond milk.

Tomorrow I am visiting a beautiful florist and I am buying myself a massive bunch of roses and coming home to do yoga and weights in front of a romantic movie.

I’m being kind to me. I am choosing to value myself. This is going to be MY year, I am going to look after myself and I am going to shine.

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Well Hey! Hi, How’s it going? What’s happening? Is it as good as they say it is up there? Have you been reading the letters I’ve written you? Does God pass on my messages? You know I ask him to, like – all the time?

Today begins a new year, twenty sixteen – can you believe that? Yep – 16, the age your firstborn grandchild turns this year. The daughter I brought home from the hospital on your birthday all those years ago. Speaking of birthdays – you would’ve been 70 this year. Time flies huh?

Remember when I was chatting to you out loud the other day – when I was driving between jobs – when I cried that messy, ugly cry and had to pull the car over on the side of the motorway until I managed to pull myself together enough to continue driving? Yeah well – that situation worked itself out with a few well-timed phone calls, apologizing, begging and whatnot.

Thanks for listening to me and not judging me on that one. A hug certainly would’ve helped but – you know – kinda difficult with you being up there in heaven and me being here and all….

I miss your cuddles the most. The ones where you’d pull that face and extend your arm and say: “Come here kiddo, it’s gonna be ok” and you’d pull me close and wrap me in a bear hug and kiss the top of my head. Somehow, that used to make me feel safe and protected no matter what storm raged around me.

I don’t get hugs like that anymore, no one in my life seems to be ‘huggers’ like we both were. I’ve taken to sometimes hugging my teddy in my bedroom because none of my kids care for the kind of hugs that I need.

Pathetic right?

Yeah, well …

OK.

I guess it is what it is.

*shrug*

I really miss your words too, I miss being told that you thought I was beautiful, and smart, and clever, and when you told me what a brilliant mother I was, I believed you. I think that’s because you were (and still are) the only man in my life who never ever hurt me. You were the only man who was brave enough to show me all your emotions and your love was never conditional.

Sure, I was often difficult, and unreasonable and often moody, but your love for me never waivered.

I’m going to start running again this year, I have a lot of pesky kilos that have sneakily crept onto my frame and this year I’m going to be kinder to myself. It’s time to stop making excuses and look after my own health and my mind better than I have done to date. I was pretty neglectful of me in 2015 and that really needs to stop. I need to do something for me – just for me – and not for anyone else. It’s my turn this year.

We just finished another Christmas.

It was hard.

Christmas is always hard now you’re gone. I miss your ‘Dad jokes’ and the way you’d have to stretch those paper hats to their capacity to get them to stretch over your big ol’ noggin. I miss the silly selfies we’d take together long before selfies even became a thing. Way before iPhones existed and Instagram and Facebook were even invented.

I miss the way you’d get so excited – just like a little kid – when you opened your gifts and how you would drive us all crazy with anticipation as you felt every square inch of your gift trying to guess the contents before removing a single piece of tape.

You’d shake it and turn it this way and that, and smell it before finally deciding to open the damn thing and put us all out of our misery!

You saw it as part of the fun of Christmas. You really were a big kid at heart. And that was one of my favourite things about you.

I loved that you were the only person who could pull me out of a bad mood successfully. You wouldn’t stand for my grumps and you’d call me on it every time. But you did it with a tenderness and compassion that I’ve never found since. You were the first person to ever tell me when I was being a bitch, and you will probably be the only person who would get away with it even to this day!

Grief, is a funny thing. I’ve learnt that it’s not just a matter of going through the seven stages and then being miraculously cured for the rest of time. No, grief is very much a cyclical thing. The cycle I’m currently in is a painful one, but I know that I’ll get through it because, I always do.

I thought I’d be doing better by now. I mean, it’s been almost 8 years since you left, but there are still a LOT of days that leave me struggling to cope. I spend a lot of time and energy pushing people out of my life because I’m frightened to let anyone close again.

Pretty screwed up hey?

Anyhow, it’s time to take another step forward. Time to throw myself at God’s feet (again) and let Him continue the healing process.

I’m ok, don’t worry about us. Mum takes great care of us all and I know she misses you as much as I do, but we understand that it was your time to go.

It just sucks is all.

Have fun running through those streets of gold and stay out of mischief.

Love you Dad,

Your Fi xx

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I remember Christmases past which would inevitably end with me sitting on the floor in my walk-in wardrobe with a bottle of red and a box of tissues sobbing and wondering whether life was ever going to get any easier.

Christmastime with all it’s sensory overload and socializing demands used to fracture my family and leave our peace and joy in tatters. But of course that was mostly all behind closed doors.

The boys (husband included) were masters at the ‘fake it til you make it’ act that high -functioning autistics become masters at, but the wheels would always fall off in a big way when the visitors left and reality started to sink back in.

But this Christmas things seemed to be much much easier.

Harley has certainly matured and learnt new ways to deal with his anxiety that didn’t involve beating the snot out of me, or one of his siblings! This weekend, I observed him quietly remove himself from situations that overwhelmed and overstimulated him, and he was able to self-regulate himself in ways that he would never have managed when he was younger.

Being part of an autism unit at school has helped strengthen his self-awareness and taught him that getting angry and aggressive doesn’t actually solve anything and doesn’t fix the problem.

Today we braved the after Christmas sales and after about an hour, I knew that Harley’s coping mechanisms were stretched thin. I was observing him closely and knew that he was a time bomb wanting to go off and was about to cut the trip short before an inevitable explosion occurred.

I watched him for a few more minutes while his sister waited at a counter to pay for her purchases and was about to tactfully suggest a break or even going home when he surprised me with his maturity.

Harley quietly walk over to the corner of the shop and sat down on the floor. He motioned for me to follow him so I did and crouched down in front of him.

“Mum, these crowds and music and lights are hurting my brain and my eyes and my ears. I need to go away from it all. I’m going to lose it soon and I don’t want to hurt you or embarrass you. Can you please take me home. I’m sorry because I know you want to shop but I just can’t take it anymore.”

And right then, crouched in front of my almost-a-teenager boy, I burst into tears.

I cried because I hurt for my boy, I cried because I wants to make his physical and mental pain stop, and I cried at how unfair and cruel life sometimes is to my boys.

But mostly -my tears were from pride.

I am so damn proud of the massive progress he’s made. I’m proud of the self-awareness he has worked hard on developing.

I’m proud of the restraint that he showed in wanting to protect me from his outburst.

But mostly I’m proud of the fact that he was able to consider ME in this situation despite the fact that he was in physical and emotional pain from the sensory onslaught that he was experiencing at that very time.

I have never bought into the whole ‘autistics don’t have empathy’ garbage, because it’s exactly that: utter garbage.

My boy hurts when others hurt, and he HATES being the reason for someone being hurt and he will go to great lengths to repair any damage that he may have caused during a meltdown.

Christmas is still a little rough for my boys and the rest of the family by extension, but it is far less ‘poke-your-eye-out-with-a-blunt-stick’ and more ‘deep-breaths-for-this-too-will-soon-pass’ .

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“Love is not just tolerance. It’s not just distant appreciation. It’s a warm sense of “I am enjoying the fact that you are you.”

And oh my goodness, how that spoke to me. Because, I know that I’m quirky, and odd and obsessive and a bit manic at times and that I’m often unreasonable, had to manage and extremely emotional.
But this my friends, this is me. This is what makes me me.

I have spent months analyzing friendships that have dissolved and relationships that have become strained and every time, and in every situation, I have blamed myself.

I have agonized over past conversations, pulling apart entire monologues in my head and I ended up wasting days, weeks & in some cases: months wondering if things would have gone differently had I have handled things another way.
I tried to change me to fit other people’s moulds and tried to alter my personality to fit in with crowds who never really wanted me in the first place.
I told myself that if I were less needy, less emotional, less talkative or even less “present” that I wouldn’t be as frustrating to people and that I’d be more likeable if I tinkered with the parts of me that frayed other people’s edges.

But all that did was strip me of what was quintessentially “Fiona” and it left nothing but heartache, desperation and despair. It made me forget who I was and I could no longer recognise myself for who I am.

Because after you peel away all of the smiles, and the hard outer shell and the mask – you find what’s really inside of me. You will find the depression that lingers despite the medication and therapies I’ve endured, the grief of losing my dad that just wont go away and the constant overwhelming feelings of worthlessness and fear that goes hand in hand with raising autistic children.

It’s all still there but increasingly I am learning that this is the way that God made me and I don’t have to be like anybody else (and I don’t have to be perfect either) to be accepted. And the good news is that I don’t have to stay this way. I am a work in progress and God is slowly bringing the people who I need in this season into my life to speak into me and pray with me and love me through my heartache.

He is healing me and growing me and that ALWAYS hurts.
Jesus wasn’t accepted by everyone when He walked the earth and He certainly didn’t change who He was to suit other people. He just loved them wherever they were at in their lives and served them with grace, mercy and a love that I will never perfect in my lifetime because I am human to the core.
Jesus accepts me just as I am. I don’t have to always be rational or have my life together and I certainly don’t need to pretend that I am tough, in control or managing every aspect of my life. He can see through all the fake and knows the real deal anyway. Plus- He died for me despite all my junk.

I am learning (albeit slowly) that just because other people don’t talk about their hurts, their fears and their shortcomings that it doesn’t mean that they don’t have any – it just means that they aren’t as open or candid about it as I am.
I will probably never find the answers to why some of my relationships dissolved or discover why certain situations ended the way that they did, and although I believe that I have forgiven, it is still hard to forget and move on. But as a very close friend reminded me today: It’s because of unanswered questions that we find faith.

Romans 5:3-5

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

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So my piggy-in-the-middle boy is only a week away from finishing grade six and therefore completing primary school!

For a child that has been to 4 schools in 4 years, he has done remarkably well.

The past 8 years of his schooling have been challenging to say the least. From teachers who didn’t understand (or seem to care) about autism and how to teach a child on the spectrum, to managing changes in routine and sensory issues, we’ve had our work cut out for us.

There have been a host of medications thrown at him and mental health professionals and educators hurling ‘advice’ at us from all angles but we have come out the other end stronger, wiser and intact. And for that alone I am grateful.

As a mother I have experienced every emotion possible, from devastation to elation and everything in between.

Truly.

But through it all – God has remained faithful and true to His promise to take care of my family.

Harley spent this year in an autism placement class which has grown him and nurtured him so much. To the point that he is a completely different kid because he finally feels valued, worthy and appreciated.

But in November we were informed that he didn’t manage to get a placement for high school and that we would have to send him back into mainstream next year. I was devastated because I knew this could mean undoing all the progress he’s made and potentially send him plummeting back down lower than he was before.

I started out by writing letters to the local member, the minister for education and attending meetings with every authority I could muster, but I kept hitting brick wall after brick wall.

I tried to send him to a different school in our area as an out-of-area student. I wrote to 9 schools in total and 6 came back with a ‘no’ and 3 didn’t reply. I spent many sleepless nights worrying myself sick about Harley and pleading with God to just FIX IT and each and every time He just continued to tell me to ‘be still’ and leave it with Him. He kept telling me to trust Him but I struggled work that so much. I was too emotionally distraught to just ‘be still’ .

Even so, when I turned 40 this year, I went and got a tattoo with those exact words: ‘Be still’ as a prompt to myself that God will fight for me, that He is the calm in the midst of my storm and as a permanent reminder to slow down, stop panicking and to trust in Him.

Because doing all that is SO hard for me. I still glance down at my arm frequently and find myself asking the question: ‘are you being still or are you freaking out?’ .

Anyway, as soon as I waved the white flag and surrendered to God and made the conscious decision to TRUST HIM no matter what: my peace returned and I started to once again sleep through the night.

I’m so thankful that Jesus didn’t give up on me, that He patiently waited for me to wake up to myself and lay it all down at His feet. Because there is truth in the verse:

Psalms 86:15 “But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.”

And just as I had allowed myself to believe that Harley was going to be ok and trust that Jesus won’t let him drown – we got a phone call late last week to inform us that our boy did in fact receive a placement in an autism class that will carry him through the rest of his schooling. In a brand new unit in the school of our choice.

I had to learn to be thankful and at peace despite my circumstances and even though things hadn’t gone my way.

I had to learn that I need to rejoice EVEN WHEN IT HURTS and there doesn’t seem to be a way out. Because my trust in God should not be dependent only on what He can do for me, but because of who He is and what He has already done.

Hebrews 10:23 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.

I don’t for a second believe that it will be all smooth sailing from here on in, but so do believe that I will never walk alone.

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I cannot believe that it’s been two years since I last wrote a blog post.

TWO YEARS?!

But here’s the thing. I really miss writing. I miss how therapeutic it was and the creativity it brought out in me and I miss the connections that blogging brought me.

I laid low for a while to grieve, to heal and to recover but after recently turning 40, I have come to realise that wisdom comes with aging and that life really is what you make of it. I’m discovering that people can only hurt me if I give them the power to and that it really is a deliberate decision to choose joy.

I have changed the name of this blog and the URL but the old content is still there.

I am no longer afraid of trolls and realise that one day they’ll probably stumble back onto this blog but that’s ok. I cannot continue to live in fear and to compromise who I truly am for their sake. I’m worth more than that.

I cannot promise to write as often as I used to as I have different commitments nowadays but I can promise to be true to myself and write whatever is on my heart.